Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

rearranging. Everything was perfect. Ted had checked them a half-dozen times while he'd waited for Len.
    "Brought you breakfast," Len said. Ted finally looked up at Len, who was holding out a white paper bag. "Extra capers and a slice of lemon."
    Ted's heart thudded so loudly against his ribs that he was sure Len could hear it. "Thanks," was all he managed to say as he took the bag.
    "I already ate mine on the way over. I figured you'd be on a pretty tight schedule and my chewing might slow you down. Maybe tomorrow I can come a few minutes earlier and we can eat breakfast together."
    Did he just say that? Ted put the paper sack down on the table and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. This day was going to be exceptionally difficult if he didn't get his shit together!
    "I… I'd like that," he stammered.
    Len's smile was perfect. Everything about the man is perfect, Ted reminded himself as he pulled out the bagel and took a quick bite.
    "I tried to call you last week," Len said as Ted chewed, "but you never called me back."
    Ted choked. Len was out of the seat the next moment, patting him on the back. "You okay, Ted?"
    His eyes watery and his face red from coughing, Ted could only nod.
    "Sorry," Len said with a shamefaced expression, "I should have known you wouldn't want me to call you."
    "What?" Ted's voice was hoarse as he stared at Len in shock.
    How could he even think I wouldn't want him to call?
    "It's just that I hoped, after… well…," he paused and grinned sheepishly, "after the other day, that you and I might—"
    "You really called me?"
    For a moment, Len looked as though he didn't understand Ted's words. Finally, he said, "I… well, yeah. I sort of bribed your assistant to give me your number. Tina?"
    Ted's brain, which had for the past ten minutes been frozen in an angst-ridden wasteland, finally cleared. "Shit. I mean… what number did she give you?"
    Len supplied the number and Ted finally understood. "That's my home phone number," he told Len, who looked entirely confused.
    "Sorry," Ted said as he gathered himself. "I haven't checked my messages there recently. I stayed in Hollywood for the final push before filming—I've got a little cubby-hole upstairs with a cot. It's just too time-consuming to drive all the way to Long Beach and back. As it is, I've only been getting about four hours of sleep a night."
    "Oh." Len's expression was full of hope. "So, does that mean we can do something together? Maybe you can join me for dinner at my beach house tonight, after filming? Unless you think you'll be here too late, of course."
    "No. I mean, yes, I'd really like that. My assistant can clean up after filming. It's only the prep work that keeps me here late." Had he just said he'd go on a date with Lenny Golden? Had Lenny just asked him out?
    Len smiled again. "Great. My driver can bring you back afterward, if you need to come back here."
    Ted was pretty sure he wouldn't be coming back that night. Or at least, he sure as hell hoped he wouldn't be sleeping on the cot.
    CHAPTER 4
    They set the table on the deck of Len's oceanfront cottage, a modest, two-bedroom Cape Cod. Ted had expected an enormous glass and concrete monstrosity, but was pleasantly surprised to discover the tiny home with its gray shingles and white shutters hidden amongst the dunes. He had instantly fallen in love with the place, with its comfortable furnishings and lived-in, cozy feel. It reminded him of his home on Long Island.
    Dinner had been a simple meal of grilled steaks, salad, and potatoes that Len had cooked himself. Although they had finished eating nearly an hour before, they continued to talk over a second bottle of a full-bodied Sonoma pinot noir. Between the wine and the soft rumble of the surf, Ted found it easy to relax, making the conversation comfortable and unhurried. Ted found Len surprisingly down to earth and charming, with a laid-back sense of humor and a sharp wit. For the first time, Ted forgot about who Len was and just enjoyed the other man's company.
    Len stood up and walked around the table to pour Ted another glass of wine, finishing the second bottle before setting in down. Ted shivered at the realization that Len was standing behind him.
    "Thanks," Ted said.
    "You're welcome. I can open another, if you'd like."
    "I wasn't talking about the wine. I wanted to thank you for this." Ted hesitated. "For dinner."
    Why did he always feel so awkward around Len? It wasn't as though he hadn't ever talked to